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“We need to talk.”
“Wedon’t need to do anything,” she said coolly, rising to stand and folding her arms over her chest. “You lost. Get over it.”
“See, that’s where you’re wrong. You know Amara better than anyone. Youknowshe’s not cut out for this. This was supposed to be you,” I said, gesturing to the empty room around us but meaning a whole lot more than that. “And I understand wanting to give it up to pursue your dreams. I really do. But this can’t be what you wanted for the company. This is just as much your legacy as it is your father’s. You can’t be okay with the way this is going down.”
“What exactly is it that you think I don’t want, Cal? Or are you forgetting I willingly voted for my sister today?”
“You don’t want this company run into the ground. You may have signed away your right to serve as CEO, and that of any children you and Logan have, and your last name might be different now, but you’re still a Delatou. Your parents refused to see reason, but with the restructuring—”
“You spoke to my parents about this?” she asked, incredulous.
“I talked to them yesterday evening. They, of course, are backing Amara one hundred percent.”
Chloe studied me for a long time, her green-hazel gaze sweeping me from head to toe. I could tell by the slight curl of her lip that she didn’t like what she saw.
That was fine. She didn’t have to like me; she simply had to agree with me and vote on my side when the time came.
And the timewouldcome. If I had anything to say about it, Amara wouldn’t be CEO of this company for long. As far as I was concerned, she was nothing more than a figurehead, a placeholder until someone more suitable could be found.
“My dad ran this company for nearly forty years,” Chloe said finally. “He took over at twenty-six when his father had a stroke that forced him into a wheelchair for the rest of his life. He and Mom had barely been married for six months at that point, but she stuck by him. They put in the work, turning this tiny little winery into a national—and international—brand. They instilled those same work ethics into each of their daughters. So tell me, Cal…what makes you think you know better than my parents about who is fit to run this company?”
I chose to answer her question with another. “Has Amara told you how we met?”
Chloe blinked in surprise. “I assumed it happened when she came back from Europe.”
I shook my head. “We met five years ago at Lawless.”
She blinked, surprised. “What happened?”
“We had…a moment. One that ended as soon as I realized who she was. I made her leave, telling her I wasn’t about to risk my career for a one night stand with a party princess.”
“What—” Chloe began, anger blazing in her eyes, but I cut her off before she could go to bat for her sister.
Amara didn’t need defending. She needed to be brought down to earth, to be reminded of her place—which wasn’t at the top of Delatou, Inc.
“Don’t try to convince me otherwise, Chloe. I’ve seen the receipts and the credit card statements from her…adventuresabroad. I’ve seen the bar tabs from her weekends in Paris and Monaco and Ibiza. I’ve seen how much she spent on simple meals in restaurants in Greece and Spain. Iknowwho she is, and she isn’t someone who should be in control of this company.”
Chloe’s gaze hardened, her expression unreadable, but I could only hope that meant she was seriously considering what I’d said. That having her sister’s antics explained so plainly by someone who didn’t love her—hell, who didn’t evenlikeher—would peel the blinders from her eyes.
I considered it a small victory when she said, “I’ll think about it,” and pushed past me to leave.
Bracing my hands on the edge of the conference table, I bowed my head and inhaled deeply.
I may have just opened a whole can of worms I’d sooner avoid, but at this point, now that the contracts were inked and notarized, now that Amara’s first day at the helm wastomorrow—the first day of a new financial quarter, no less—there were few things I could do to remove Amara as CEO without proving gross negligence or having her step down of her own free will. Seeking out her sisters and imploring them to see reason was my last chance.
I’d started at the top, and now it was time to go in for the kill with the littlest Delatou.
Normally, Brie was easy to locate on Chateau Delatou grounds. The girl lived to bake, which is why her family affectionately referred to her as Baker Brie. She never strayed far from the kitchens—or Ezra, the restaurant’s head chef. From the outside looking in, her little crush on him was honestly adorable, and I idly wondered if any of her sisters had picked up on it yet.
Ezra, for his part, seemed completely oblivious, which wasn’t entirely surprising given what he’d been through. I’d been in the interview when Leon had hired him three years ago—right around the time Brie had wrapped up culinary school and moved home—and had gotten to know him decently well in the time since. Ezra Wendt had two focuses: food, and his son, Hansen.
When I walked into the kitchens an hour later, I fully expected to find Brie glued to Ezra’s side.
Only, she wasn’t there.
“Hey, Cal,” Ezra said when he caught sight of me, tossing a dish cloth over his shoulder and turning the heat down on whatever sauce was simmering on the burner in front of him. Damn, it smelled delicious, and my stomach grumbled in response.
“Hey, Ez. Where’s Brie?”
